


iron

by macabre



Series: elemental [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternative Universe - no Spiderman, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Parent Tony Stark, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark-centric, Tony adopts Peter, no beta so brace yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22455091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macabre/pseuds/macabre
Summary: He wraps an arm around Peter’s shoulders and kisses the top of his head. They stay in the elevator together. “You know what I’ve been working on?”“Another suit.”Tony hums in acknowledgement. Peter’s already wearing something of Tony’s. “It’s for you.”Peter doesn’t move or blink, doesn’t tense up or try and flee. His eyes lift over to that last spot, that empty, waiting spot. “What do you want me to do with it?”“Wear it, if you need to.”
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: elemental [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1326329
Comments: 15
Kudos: 382





	iron

They don’t talk about Iron Man much; in many ways, Tony knows they don’t talk about the stuff that matters much at all. In the months that Peter has come to live with him, he’s slowly cracked the door more and more open, but any discussion that has the opportunity to dive into the deep gets swept into talk of negative charges or velocity of impact. Science talk, Happy always mumbles under his breath, as if they’re purposely trying to exclude him. 

Tony knows that when Peter asks him to look over his calculations, it’s a way to say thank you, I love you, I appreciate you, and when Tony tells him that he’s done a great job, it’s his way of saying I adore you, kid. 

The only time Peter is close to saying those verbatim words to him are late at night when he can’t sleep and he’s itching to hide somewhere alone. Tony will try and keep him close by - entice him with a favorite movie or act like he needs help in the lab - and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. The past few years weigh heavily on a young kid like Peter, and Tony knows that he’ll always have to work through it, as long as he lives, but damn if he can’t try and help. 

Tony will watch FRIDAY play the footage of Peter as he crawls into a tight, dark space somewhere. He wonders if the kid knows that he sometimes watches him hide; Tony never tells Peter he has to come out. It’s a boundary he won’t cross if the kid needs space, and it happens a lot less now than it used to, but sometimes it still does. 

There’s a big celebration happening in the city to remember the tenth anniversary of the day the Avengers originally assembled to save New York; they’re all invited to attend of course, and sit on a stage like glorified statues, or ride down the streets in a big parade float, Tony’s not sure. He never actually entertained the idea of going until Peter asks him about it.

It makes Tony feel uncomfortable suddenly, because it’s the first time his kid has outwardly acknowledged Tony’s alter ego.

“Do you think I should go?” he asks Peter.

He shrugs with one shoulder. Peter is nothing if not a people pleaser, so Tony isn’t surprised that he won’t give a definitive. “You saved everyone,” he says, so, so softly that Tony barely hears him. 

From the mouth of anyone else, Tony might puff up his chest and deflect any lingering feeling of horror by acknowledging - why yes, he did save everyone. In front of Peter, he feels the need to deny it, but he can’t, because he remembers how cold it felt when he lost consciousness up there. His years of intensive therapy and late night panicked phone calls couldn’t prepare him for how passionately he feels that it was all way more worth it because he knows Peter was here, in the city, that day, and now Peter is his. 

His mouth feels dry.

Of course, Peter senses his discomfort and pads softly out of the room. The kid instantly picks up in any shift of emotion the very moment it happens - a defense mechanism that has served him well in the past, no doubt, but now it leads to evasion.

Tony takes a moment to himself, then knocks softly at Peter’s open door. He can’t see the kid, but he hears an acknowledgement from somewhere in the room.

“I’m headed down. Wanna join?”

“What are you working on?”

“Got some suit repairs to patch.”

A pause. Then a quiet no, thank you.

Tony figured; it took him longer to notice it then it should have, but Peter is decidedly skittish around any of the Iron Man suits, parts, or even working holograms that Tony will have pulled up throughout their home. Peter has been flighty since the day he landed in Tony’s life, so it took time to realize what things or topics specifically made him retreat, and of everything - Tony’s not sure why Iron Man is one of them.

He is Iron Man. Peter is his kid now. He would have thought - hoped - that Iron Man was a symbol of comfort to Peter. A literal hero living in his home that will save him from anything and everything that Peter wasn’t saved from before. 

But that’s clearly not how it is, and Tony wants to get to the bottom of it, but laying out the footwork is delicate. 

“You know where to find me.” Tony retreats. 

He sits in his lab space and stares at the wall long enough that FRIDAY prompts him to assure her that he’s okay. The truth is - he’s not working on one of his suits. He’s working on a suit for Peter, the same way that he not only made a suit for Rhodey, but also for Pepper should the day ever come where she might need it. 

Tony has no plans on Peter ever wearing the suit, and as much as he tells his brain it’s a bad idea to build Peter something that he clearly has some negative feelings towards, he can’t help that his hands constantly itch to make it. It’s for protection, he tells himself. Just in case, he tells himself. 

He renders some new images for Peter’s suit - he knows blue is Peter’s favorite color, so he mixes it in with red, nothing more than a symbolic tie-in to his own vanity and suit. The red and blue look good together though, and he knows that everything in his rendered copy is perfect, and ready to build.

He holds off on building the actual suit though. He won’t hold off forever though, and when it’s done, he’ll have to decide where to store it. Somewhere Peter can’t see it, or right along his suits. There’s an empty spot waiting.

It’s late; he goes to bed, pausing by Peter’s bedroom to see a tussled head of hair barely visible from under a comforter, but when he wakes up the next morning, said comforter and bed head is sleeping in the armchair tucked into the corner of Tony’s bedroom. 

“Pete?”

The kid stirs from the chair - clearly awake already. When Tony lifts the corner of his own sheets, Peter quickly scampers into the bed, comforter and all. 

“You okay?” 

His kid has crashed in his room a few times before - when he couldn’t sleep or was feeling particularly anxious about something - and he always does the same thing. He’ll sit in the chair - an ugly chair that Tony hates but keeps there specifically for this purpose - or he’ll crawl up under Tony’s bed and scare the shit out of him when he emerges. He never crawls into Tony’s bed on his own. 

“Not feeling great.”

Tony searches Peter’s face - it’s pale, his lips roughly chapped. He looks tired and too thin still. He puts his hand on Pete’s forehead and if anything, it’s just cold. “Convenient to be sick today, don’t you think?”

Peter hums, a half smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Tonight is a gala event that Peter agreed to attend with Tony officially; even with his adoption official now, Peter hasn’t attended Stark events yet but is expected to. The poor kid is mobbed in the streets already by photographers so Tony has mixed feelings about it, but the longer they wait the harder it will be. 

And Peter agreed two months ago. 

Tony slips his arms under Peter’s body and hoists him against his side; the boy stiffens, but relaxes quickly, tucked up under Tony’s arm. “You know I won’t make you go. Now tell me - are you sick?”

Peter’s face disappears under his comforter, drawn up tight around his shoulders. Tony sees the shrug. 

“Peter.”

“I’m fine.” 

Tony frowns; he’s pretty sure that if he asked FRIDAY, she’d confirm that Peter is at the very least fever free. “I’ve got a meeting I need to go to; I’ll be back at six. If you are up to going with me, we’ll leave at seven. If you’re not up to it, then I’ll eat with you before I go, okay?”

Peter’s head pops back up. “Pepper will be upset if I don’t go.”

Tony almost laughs. He takes Peter’s face between his hands. “Has Pepper ever been upset with you? About anything?”

Peter shrugs. Tony kisses the top of his head before slipping out of bed to get dressed, watching as his kid wrestles around in the bed like a baby bird making a nest. It’s fucking cute - it makes Tony’s chest ache and his teeth rattle around in his jaw. 

When he comes home later that night, running late after being cornered by multiple board members, he’s surprised to find the kid decked out in his new tux, ready to go. It wasn’t until that moment that Tony could acknowledge that he fully expected Peter to back out, but his kid looks ready. Dressed and holding himself in a completely new and cautious way. 

“Look at you.” Tony takes a moment to remember this. “You’ll put me to shame.”

Peter scoffs, but he’s been blushing since before Tony walked into the room, no doubt. “I feel - ” he starts, but stops. Nervously looks at Tony, clearly worried to say the wrong thing. “Like an impostor. This isn’t me; it’s not for me.”

“Peter.”

“It’s fine. I’ll go for you.”

Tony thinks back to when he first met Peter, instantly smitten, but worried about how he’d integrate a kid as shy as Peter into the world of Stark Industries. Their initial meetings were short, then longer, then official. Tony didn’t really ever feel like he needed to give Peter the spiel about what he was signing up for if they officially moved forward - Peter was smart, and he took in everything around him. The bodyguard, the car, then the penthouse. When he visited Peter at his last home, he saw that the kid had an old issue of Time Magazine with Tony as its cover. It was one of his more detailed interviews post SI stocks falling after they announced the shift away from warfare. 

Tony wonders where he got that magazine; it would have been ten years old then. 

“I know this is part of it,” Peter says. “It’s worth it.”

You’re worth it. Tony hears the underlining there.

Their therapist would be disappointed to know that’s where Tony left things, but he had to get ready and get them both in a car. On the way there, Tony reassures himself that there was a reason why he picked this event for Peter to make his official event debut with him: it’s a smaller gala, and the invitation list was comprised of people Tony generally trusted to leave his kid alone outside of generic small talk. 

It’s frankly boring. The same faces, the same small talk. It’s nice to have Peter with him - he makes the rounds quickly, never letting anyone get too much of Peter - before ushering him to their table for the four course dinner that he plans to cut out of after the first two.

Quiet as he is, Peter seems okay. He makes a face at some of the food being served - displeased over the idea of ham as a mousse - but doesn’t display any signs of unease. He asks what Tony thinks will be for desert, so they end up staying through the meal and charity auction.

Peter especially didn’t love the the mint sorbet, but this time Tony snaps a picture of his face so he’ll have it forever. It’s one of the most kid-like pictures he has of Peter now. 

“What’s wrong with chocolate ice cream?” he asks as they stand. 

There are people on all sides of them moving to chat, so Tony tries to quickly navigate his way around them. Peter stays close, tucked up against his back, so they two can move quickly through the growing crowd. 

What looked like a friendly, benign mass of people starts to look more and more like a mob. Tony tries to politely push past a few people, but it’s getting harder and harder to move, especially with Peter pressing further and further into his back, his nose almost tucked under his shoulder now. 

“Tony?” he hears the kid whisper under his ear, voice full of apprehension now. 

“It’s fine. We’ll be out of here in just a sec, kiddo.”

He knows that where Peter was pressed against him, suddenly he was no longer. He knows that people are trying to get his attention and ask all kinds of questions, but when he turns to grab his kid, he’s not there any longer.

“Pete?” He calls, rocking forward onto his toes to try and see over the heads and shoulders of those around him, but there’s no familiar mop of hair anywhere. “Peter?”

There’s a low seated sense of panic starting to bubble up from the pit of his stomach; he recalls getting the phonemail from CPS after Peter’s stint in the ER and how he couldn’t even remember the time in-between said call and getting to the hospital. Now, there’s a dull thudding in his ears and a sweat breaking out across the back of his neck much the same.

“Move!” He says roughly to the person closest to him. He can apologize later when he finds his kid hiding under a table or in the rest room. Tony isn’t far from the table they previously sat, so he flips up the table cloth just to check.

“Tony, sweetie, what are you doing?” Ms. Berez asks, a socialite that Tony has known since he was Peter’s age. She’s laughing at him, at first politely, but then more pointedly as Tony shoves past to the next table.

“Peter?” He yells. His voice doesn’t go bar in the ballroom with the amount of people laughing and drinking. 

Tony makes a beeline for the stage, where he catapults himself up and over the ledge, using the higher vantage point to search for a familiar silhouette.

There isn’t one. 

Tony curses, pressing his phone to his ear. “Hap, I need you to start from the front entrance and look for Peter.”

Happy, like Tony, immediately must assume that the kid is hiding somewhere, because when he asks how long he’s been missing, he sounds worried, but not alarmed. 

“He literally just disappeared a minute ago,” Tony says, but he can’t keep the hysterical edge from creeping into his voice. He knows it doesn’t feel right - Peter may hide in the safety of their penthouse, but he wouldn’t leave Tony’s side in a place like this. He knows that, so where is he? 

“We’ll find him, boss.” Tony knows Happy well enough to hear the concern in his voice, but to anyone else it would sound confidently assuring. 

“Hey Stark!” 

Tony ignores the men trying to get his attention as he jumps down from the stage and pushes through the crowd toward the entrance to the ballroom. He feels beyond just calling out his kid’s name - he’s tapping at his watch and FRIDAY’s voice pipes into his ear: “His tracker is still on premises.”

Tony makes it through the grand archway into the elaborate halls. There are still people milling about, but it’s much less crowded. The halls are dimly lit though, and there’s a veil of cigar smoke obscuring the little lightning offered.

The watch on his hand pulses; he’s getting closer to Peter. He takes off down the hall - the ballroom is at one end of the hotel, the entrance at the other, but there are many rooms in-between here and there. 

Tony kicks open the first door on his right - it’s a room for the staff to have their breaks in, but it’s mostly empty, just one young looking boy, barely older than Peter, scrolling through his phone. Tony keeps going, accidentally spying on a couple in a single family style bathroom who didn’t lock the door, then finds an empty conference room. The cigar smoke originates from an old fashioned parlor for men that still exists not far from the ballroom, which is where Tony finally sees him, although not at first.

He rounds the corner into the room, which is large and open with bookshelves lining it, leather armchairs cozied up two by two. There’s a group of men - probably seven of them - circled around something.

Or someone.

Peter.

The kid is in-between all these strangers, curled in on himself, hands pulled up in the sleeves of his suit, eyes glazed over. Tony knows the look - he’s disassociating - and he’s already so far gone that Tony wonders if he’ll be able to tell him what happened. 

“What the fuck is going on here?” Tony roughly shoulders his way into the circle, pulling Peter face first into his chest. A couple of the men have the decency to look sheepish, but the others look angry. “Ferdinand, I swear to fucking God if you ever want SI to sign another contract again, you better tell me why the hell any of you touched my son.”

James Green - one of the youngest in the group, because Tony realizes he recognizes all of the men except one - holds up his hands. “Relax, Tony. We were just in here relaxing after dinner when the kid stepped in. Looking for a quiet place, probably.”

“That’s a lie,” Tony hisses. He knows Peter didn’t just wander off by himself. “Now tell me - which one of you grabbed him?”

For a moment, no one moves or breathes, sensing just how serious Tony is. Then, Ferdinand laughs. “Tony, Tony - we just wanted to get to know the boy. He is, after all, the future of Stark Industries.”

Tony thinks about when he was Peter’s age at his father’s events; he thinks about the liquor that he chased himself, and the liquor that people poured for him. He thinks about the things that sometimes where laced into the drinks.

Gingerly, Tony hooks his fingers under Peter’s jaw and tilts his face up so he can look at his kid’s face. The kid doesn’t even blink. He can’t be sure.

“Boss?” Happy has arrived, standing as tall as possible in the only way in or out of the room. 

Tony stands his ground, but when Happy moves to his side, the group of men around them start to disperse into the dark corners of the room, so he gently guides Peter into Happy’s arm. “Take him to the car. I’ll be out in another minute.”

The men are smart enough not to move while Happy steers Peter outside; Tony can tell a few of them are ready to bolt. Tony’s got the ID on the last guy in the group, the one he didn’t already know - FRIDAY pulls it up in the periphery of his glasses. 

“I want you all to know that I’ll be testing my son’s blood levels as soon as we leave, and if I find out that any of you gave that kid anything, be it a fucking lollipop, I will come for you.”

“Stark, seriously now, we didn’t - ”

“And even if his blood is clear, I don’t want to see your faces ever again at an event where I’ll be. Is that understood?”

George Pollard would be his dad’s age - Peter’s grandfather’s age - and he walks with a cane, has done so for years already. He thrusts it out at Tony’s chest: “We didn’t hurt your boy, Anthony. We just wanted to ask him a few questions. It was all supposed to be friendly.”

“Supposed to be,” he grinds out. 

George waves the cane around like a conductor. “We didn’t know the boy was so sensitive. Honestly, Anthony, what on earth possessed you?”

What possessed him to adopt Peter, he means. Tony wants to scream he’s so mad, but he also can feel the fight slowly draining out of him. Because he knows - he knows that he’s the one who put that kid in this position, and why is he even standing here now? He’s got the faces of these men secured on camera if he needs to press charges, and Peter is currently sitting outside waiting for him.

The anger fades from his shoulders, but his heart is still pacing wildly as he walks quickly out of that room and out of that hotel. Happy is pulled up front, and when he opens the back door, his friend is hunched closely next to Peter, who is slumped against the cool window, but trying to give him space at the same time. 

Happy moves out of the way and lets Tony get in. “Hey Pete,” he says, sliding in next to Peter. Slowly, he reaches for the boy, giving him time to indicate if he doesn’t want the touch. Peter doesn’t move. He lets Tony maneuver him, first buckling him in then leaning him against his side. Tony idly slips his fingers through Peter’s hair a few times; he can feel Peter’s breath deepening. 

He does everything he said; as soon as they’re home, Tony draws Peter’s blood himself - a skill he perfected during mandatory training with SHIELD, of all things. Bruce was a patient teacher, although being paired up with Clint as a partner was distracting at best.

Peter is quiet, but he’s instantly more alert and aware once they’re home. He stays quiet as Tony takes the blood, has Happy stay with him while he runs it down to the lab to test it. He should go back up immediately - FRIDAY will alert him when it’s done, but instead Tony sits on a stool and stares while he waits.

They’re negative. Peter’s bloodwork is perfectly within normal range in every way, and for as scared and righteous as Tony felt in the moment, there was something settling within every minute that passed. Out of the men in that room, he couldn’t really imagine any of them drugging his kid. They aren’t that stupid. 

Tony turns to his wall of suits; he thinks about the empty spot he opened there a few weeks ago and wonders if Peter knows what it’s for. Tonight could have been different - it could have been worse than handsy men. It could have been someone willing to take Peter out the back for the right amount of money, it could have been an unmarked car slipping out of the alley and into city traffic before Tony could have confirmed he left the building. 

Tony knows what he would have done in that situation, and he knows there would have been zero hesitation - but he wonders. 

What would Peter have done? If Peter donned a suit, what could he do with it? There’s no doubt in his head that he’d be better than Tony himself. There’s no doubt that if Peter needed it, he would call the suit and as gently as possible stop the perpetrators. 

Tony had never been closer to breaking his sobriety than the night before Peter testified at Skip Westcott’s new trial; he didn’t trust himself to hold it together when he saw that piece of shit, not after hearing the smallest details of Peter’s abuse in pre-trial interviews, but he also didn’t trust himself to drink into mere oblivion.

His kid though - his kid remained calm through his testimony. He walked right past his very nightmare and maintained a clear and soft voice. No one else had to see the nonstop tremors that plagued him for the entire week, no one else had to see all the progress they’d made in healthy eating habits disappear for months. All of that though and Peter was still the bravest.

Tony wants to give Peter a suit because he no longer can imagine someone more worthy of it, but he knows that reason isn’t enough. 

FRIDAY takes Tony back up to the living floor; when the doors open, he can hear Happy saying something, although he doesn’t catch it. Peter sits at a bar stool at the kitchen island watching Happy make some kind of sandwich, and he’s smiling. Happy gestures wildly with the hand holding the mayo laden knife so some of it falls on the floor.

After pulling up the seat next to Peter, Happy holds his gaze for a short moment. Peter pulls his hands up into his favorite hoodie - one approximately three sizes too big for him - and rests his chin on his forearms on the counter. 

Suddenly, it feels like any other Saturday night. 

“I’mma get going, boss, unless you need anything else for the moment,” Happy says around his mouthful of turkey sandwich. 

“You gonna clean up your mess before you leave?”

Happy shrugs. Tony rolls his eyes. Once he’s gone, all Tony has to fixate on is a dirty knife in the sink and the crumbs on the floor. Peter doesn’t move, but he can feel the kid’s gaze shift over on him.

“Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?”

“Yeah.”

If Tony had anything in his hand, he’s pretty sure it’d be snapped in half. “I’m fine, Pete. Are you okay? You know that’s all I really care about.”

“I’m okay.” Peter sits up. “I’m sorry - I really didn’t mean to scare you like that. They really didn’t do anything, it’s just that - ”

“Peter.” Tony turns to him, puts a hand on his arm. “They took you from my side. That wasn’t okay.”

Peter makes a face. “I really don’t think they meant any harm. I lost my grip on you, and then one of them held me upright before I tripped over my own feet. The next thing I knew though I was alone with them. I freaked out, and I honestly probably didn’t need to.”

Tony shakes his head. “Peter.” He swallows. This isn’t a kid that needs a lecture about how dangerous and dark of a place the world is; this kid knows all that already. “The simple truth is that neither of us know what their intent was, and the intentions in that room could have very well varied. Just because a couple of them were genuinely or innocently curious about you does not mean that someone else in that room didn’t have an agenda.”

Peter shrugs, then nods. “You’re right.” He reaches forward, hugs Tony. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“You did nothing wrong.”

They stay like that for a moment longer before Peter retreats. The hoodie Peter is wearing is one of Tony’s old ones; something that was stuffed in a box in his lab, long forgotten, with a hole near the hem. 

He remembers the day he first met Peter Parker face-to-face; the shirt he was wearing then was so faded that he couldn’t quite make out what the chemical equation on it was supposed to be, but he found it charming nonetheless. He realized a little later, after they’d been sitting together long enough for Peter to relax some, that he could see a little more of the shirt. Parts of the equation where printed, whereas a couple parts of it had been written in with a sharpie. 

It was such an endearing detail that Tony found it hard to think about much else later that night, when he was home alone again. He’s thankful that Peter wore that the day they met; it creates such a clear memory of the day itself.

It’s such a sharp contrast to this evening, seeing Peter in his first formal tux. He knows what it looks like to everyone else - an Oliver Twist orphan that’s been polished up and fed and stuffed into a new suit. 

“Come on.” Tony stands. “I need to show you something.”

Most likely, Peter knows what this is all about, especially when they’re back in the lab. FRIDAY, smart girl that Tony made her to be, turns on the backlights to the row of armor, and the kid looks hesitant to step out of the elevator.

“Pete.” He looks hesitant - not scared, like he did in the cigar room - but hesitant in the same way he was probably getting dressed earlier this evening, an event Tony missed. 

He wraps an arm around Peter’s shoulders and kisses the top of his head. They stay in the elevator together. “You know what I’ve been working on?”

“Another suit.”

Tony hums in acknowledgement. Peter’s already wearing something of Tony’s. “It’s for you.”

Peter doesn’t move or blink, doesn’t tense up or try and flee. His eyes lift over to that last spot, that empty, waiting spot. “What do you want me to do with it?”

“Wear it, if you need to.”

“For my own protection.”

“Yes.”

“But no one else’s?”

There was speculation, of course - when Tony Stark adopted a young boy, he would not only inherit Stark Industries, but also the mantle of Iron Man. There was a lot of vicious commentary on how small Peter was, how he didn’t look like a potential super hero. Rhodey himself had questions for his best friend - was this all for Iron Man?

“You’ll have to answer that yourself,” he says. “But Peter.” He gets on his knees and looks up at him. “When the day comes that all these are yours, because they will be, you get to decide what to do with them, okay?”

On the opposite side of the suit wall is a wall dedicated to tactile scribbling; the drawing that Peter made for Iron Man long before he ever met Tony Stark hangs there. There are other photos hanging around it - the day the adoption was official, the first day they met and social workers snapped a photo “just in case.” Peter’s first day of school at Midtown, a picnic with Pepper, and their first trip together when they got sick on chocolate, Peter’s stomach pain visible on his face in the picture, even if he is laughing. 

Peter’s smile is small, perhaps strained, but just as genuine. “You’ve given me a lot.” A lot of choice. 

“You get to decide.” But Tony will build them. Even if Peter asked him not to, he would. He’d hide them, but he couldn’t not. 

“Do I have to put it on now?”

Tony stands. This time he actively has to select the penthouse button. The doors slide shut. “Not today.”

One day, Tony will think and remember the first time he sees his son in a suit of iron.


End file.
